The Knight's Report in Le Morte Darthur

            Felicity Riddy notes the presence of Arthur’s “insatiable desire for possession” in Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae (61); this desire is also observable in Malory’s adaptation, but it has been transmuted into a sort of ideological possession, in which Arthur’s dominance is felt through the relatively isolated benevolent or brave acts of his various knights. This scheme is most operative, it seems, on the “home turf” of the British Isles and contrasts noticeably with the narrative of imperial conquest chronicled in “The Noble Tale Betwixt King Arthur and Lucius the Emperor of Rome.” Leaving this imperial narrative aside, though, it is generally true that the domestic activities of Arthur’s knights serve, in combination, to demonstrate the moral superiority of the Round Table as a collective body, even though Arthur is often sidelined while more active characters, e.g. Balin or Lancelot, take the field.

            The way in which this unity of chivalric ideology – especially chivalric ideology as legitimating a particular authority, Arthur – is actually achieved is notable, given that without some structuring principle, it might seem as though the various knights of whom we hear are acting in an autonomous or even rogue fashion as they gallivant around the realm. The establishment of the Round Table is, of course, accompanied in Malory by the Pentecostal Oath, which establishes restrictive guidelines for all knights who wish to ally themselves with the powerful Arthur (57). The narrative also hints, though, at a means by which this Oath was guarded and maintained, so that Arthur, oftentimes safely ensconced at Camelot, can be sure of his knights’ loyalty and devotion to enhancing his (rather that their) personal glory.

            This is the function served by the “Knight’s Report,” which occurs numerous times in the narratives of Books I-III (e.g. 49 and possibly 80) but is perhaps most explicit in the summary of Lancelot’s deeds at the conclusion of Book III (118-119). The actions of the knight are reported to the King, the legitimating authority, not by the knight himself – perhaps there would be some measure of arrogance or tendentiousness associated with such self-reporting – but rather by the witnesses and beneficiaries of his numerous deeds. For  example, “When Sir Gaheris heard them speak,  he said, ‘I saw all the battle from the beginning to the ending.’ And there he told King Arthur all how it was” (118). Sir Gaheris’ protracted presence allows him to speak authoritatively of Lancelot’s actions and the direction of his reportage – i.e., to the King – establishes the monarch as both the ultimate cause of his knights’ worthy deeds and as the final recipient of the accumulated “worship.” The motif of the report, placed often at the conclusion of a collection of adventures, serves to tie the knights – even (perhaps especially) the most powerful, Sir Lancelot – and their many discursive activities to Arthur himself and so reminds the reader of the centrality of the king and his power, despite the fact that Arthur is often not the narrative focus.